


The Day Sherlock Made Breakfast

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Dominant, Explicit Sexual Content, John's Browsing History, M/M, PWP, Restraint, Sherlock Loses Control Of An Experiment, Spanking, Submissive, We're Serious About The PWP Tag, blindfold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:31:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2042730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An undeleted browsing history piques Sherlock's curiosity. He decides to investigate</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sherlock Makes Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe. 
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments --they mean so much. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Sherlock discovered it this morning, before John woke up.

Last night Sherlock had gone to bed before John who had obviously taken advantage of the alone time for some porn watching and, no doubt, some wanking. This was nothing new; Sherlock knew John did that, had even caught him once. But last night was different.

Because John didn't delete his browsing history.

Of course, Sherlock looked. All the sites were bondage-based. Submission and domination. This surprised Sherlock very much.

And intrigued him. 

They'd never talked much about sexual matters -- obviously Sherlock knew about the porn and wanking and all the dates John was always going on. But he never had John pegged for being into this kind of thing. Some of the films were men and women, some were only men. It was all very intriguing. Which gave Sherlock an idea. He wanted to know which role John was imagining playing as he watched the videos: the dominant or the submissive one. He didn't even know why he wanted to know, but he definitely wanted to figure it out.

He stood up and turned on the kettle. He waited until he heard John stirring in his room. And then he carried a cup of tea upstairs. He was going to be submissive to John today to see if that's what John liked.

He knocked on John's bedroom door. "Tea?" he called.

John sat up properly and stretched as Sherlock came in. "I was on my way down," he murmured, yawning loudly. "Thank you," he smiled, taking the mug from Sherlock. "What time is it?"

"It's just gone nine," Sherlock said. "Would you like me to make you some breakfast?" 

"Are you going to test something on me?" John asked. He gasped softly. "Have you already?"

"No, I just brought you a cup of tea, Mr Paranoid," Sherlock said. "Forget it if you don't want anything. I just thought I'd make breakfast." 

"Breakfast sounds nice," John said with a smile. "Give me a minute and I'll come down and help." He took a sip of his tea and hummed as he scooted to get off of the bed.

"Don't rush. I'll do it myself. Tell me what you want and I'll do it," Sherlock said, trying to watch John's face without John noticing that he was watching.

"Um, just some scrambled eggs and toast is fine." He took another sip of tea and looked at him suspiciously. "You didn't burn anything down, did you?" he teased.

"Don't be ridiculous, the fire alarm would have woken you if I had," Sherlock said, turning to leave. Then he stopped and said, "Tell me again what you want?"

"Scrambled eggs and toast. Sherlock, I can come downstairs," he repeated.

"I'll be ready for you to come down whenever you want," Sherlock said. "You're in charge," he added as he left.

So far John didn't seem to be too bothered either way about Sherlock's behaviour. Perhaps he'd be more responsive after he was properly awake. Sherlock moved to the kitchen. Thank god John had said scrambled eggs because that was really the only kind of eggs Sherlock could do. He put a few slices in the toaster and set the table. When John came down, he put the food on a plate for him.

"Here you go, just as you told me to do," he said.

"Thanks," John smiled, sitting at the table and admiring the meal. "Not that this isn't fantastic but what's gotten into you? Why're you being so nice?"

"Am I?" Sherlock asked, sitting down with his tea. "I thought I was nice all the time."

"Right. Well . . . you're being extra nice," John grinned. "This is really good, Sherlock. You don't want any?"

"Not hungry," Sherlock said. "So what would you like me to do now?"

"Hmm? Just relax, Sherlock. Don't you have an experiment or anything to work on?" John asked, wondering where this was coming from all of a sudden

Sherlock stood up. This was boring. John's only reaction was confused indifference. Either Sherlock was being too subtle or John wasn't interested in domination.

"John," he said, "I will literally do anything you tell me to do right now. Now's your chance at being the boss of me -- do you want to go for it?"

"Um . . . the flat needs to be cleaned up. You should do that," John said. For a second it seemed like Sherlock wanted something else -- like he was hinting at something that John was missing. "You could also go to the shop . . . "

"I'm not asking you to come up with things that I _could_ do -- I've got plenty of things I could do," Sherlock said. "In fact, cleaning the flat is already on my list. It's #19 so don't you worry about the flat -- it'll get cleaned as soon as I do #1--#18." He sat back down at the table. "I was just asking if there's anything you _want_ me to do."

John watched him for a moment, trying to read him the way Sherlock always did. He didn't see anything there -- not anything that would explain this sudden desire to please John. And with the word 'please' his mind went to what he was watching last night and he flushed lightly. "I -- what else is on your list? So that I don't name something that's already on it again," he said. 

Sherlock sighed a little -- he was getting the feeling this wasn't John's thing. Unless it was just the context? So he ignored John's question and said, "Should I rub your back?"

"Rub my back?" John asked. He took a slow breath. Was Sherlock trying to hint that he was a willing submissive? Not the role he would have pictured for someone like Sherlock, but then with him having been a captain maybe Sherlock was thinking the same about him. Maybe if he was going to find out the truth he'd have to be forceful. "Tell me why you're doing this." 

"Does that mean you want me to keep doing it?" Sherlock asked.

"Doing what?" John asked. "Tell me what you're doing." 

Sherlock looked closely at John's face -- for sure he could see curiosity but curiosity was natural for John Watson. It didn't prove anything. So he tried a different strategy. "No," Sherlock said.

John's brows furrowed. Was Sherlock still playing or was he wrong? "If you don't tell me . . . .I'll . . . I'll make Molly lock you out of the morgue for a month." That was sort of a punishment, but one that could also be made under normal circumstances.

"You couldn't make Molly do that," Sherlock said, looking up at John. "You couldn't make anyone do anything."

"Yes I could," John said indignantly. "Tell me what you're doing," he demanded again. 

"Or what?" Sherlock asked.

"I already told you! I'm going to call her right now," John said, getting up to find his phone. If he knew for sure Sherlock wanted to be dominated, he'd have told him that if he doesn't start talking he'd put his mouth to better use. He bit his lip at the thought, going over to his jacket.  

"All right," Sherlock said, "I'll tell you." He swallowed. "I'm doing an experiment on . . . myself. I'm checking to see my reactions to commands." It wasn't entirely true, but he moved to check his pulse, which meant it wasn't entirely a lie either. He was surprised to see that it was a bit faster than usual. Intriguing. "There, fine, you got your way. Are you happy now?" 

John paused and walked over to the table again, crossing his arms. "It seemed like you were trying to lead me in a certain direction with the commands -- what exactly were you trying to make me tell you to do?" 

"I wasn't trying to be specific, I guess. I was just trying to get you to use commands. 'Sure, I'll have breakfast if you're making it and I'll come help in a minute' -- it's not quite a command, is it?" He looked up at John's face. It really was quite handsome, he thought to himself. "Why? Do you want me to rub your back?"

"No. I want you to tell me what you want." John remained standing so he could have a little bit of height over Sherlock. 

"Well, I need you to give me commands. Not suggestions, specific commands," he said, swallowing again. It was strange: John was asking Sherlock what he wanted yet Sherlock felt this whole thing had got somehow out of his own control. And he wasn't doing anything to stop it. "For the experiment, I mean. I'll let you know when I have enough data. What ever command you want. Anything. But don't pick clean the flat," he looked down at the table and fiddled with something, "that would be less fun."

John smirked. "Oh. Yes, I suppose cleaning the flat would be less fun than . . . what? Something like . . . telling you to get on your knees?" He pointed to the floor in front of him. "Now, Sherlock."

Sherlock didn't need to check his pulse -- the fact that he immediately dropped down onto his knees told him everything he needed to know about his reaction. The fact that he didn't know what was coming next was also quite intriguing.


	2. Submissive

Heat spiked through John as he watched Sherlock. This wasn't the role he usually imagined himself in, but he was finding it quite easy to adapt to. He stepped closer to Sherlock, put two fingers under his chin and lifted his head. "Tell me what made you do this today."

"The videos you watched last night," Sherlock said. He felt heat in his cheeks, but he wasn't quite sure it was embarrassment.

"How many times, Sherlock, have I asked you not to touch my things?" John asked slowly.

"It was an accident," Sherlock said. "You should have deleted your history if you wanted to keep it a secret."

John laced his fingers into Sherlock's hair and tugged his head back. "You accidentally opened the computer, looked up my history, and clicked on the websites?" He bent down a little bit. "As it's mine I can do whatever I want, Sherlock. You, however, I think you need to learn not to touch things you're not supposed to." John let go of his hair and stepped back. "Stand up and go to my room. Take everything but your pants off and wait for me. Don't touch yourself."

Sherlock's head was spinning a bit, but his body picked himself up and carried himself into John's bedroom. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned the videos, this had clearly taken a sexual turn and he wasn't sure . . . yet why was he taking off his clothes? He stripped to his pants and slid into the bed. All of a sudden he did feel like touching himself, but he didn't because John had said not to. Is that why he wanted to in the first place? This was confusing, but in a way that made him want to find out more.

John followed and watched him taking his clothes off, making sure he really didn't touch. What an odd turn the morning had taken. He wondered if this is what Sherlock had intended this morning or if things had simply gotten out of control. He walked into the room and shut the door. "I don't remember telling you to lay down, Sherlock."

"Sorry," Sherlock said and found himself getting out of bed and standing up in front of John. He wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't sure about anything. He normally hated this feeling. He could so easily just leave the room, he could get dressed again and go back to normal. But he didn't do any of those things. He waited for John to speak.

"I want you to know that, if you feel uncomfortable at any time, you're allowed to tell me to stop. No matter what I have ordered you to do. Understand?" John asked, moving closer to him. He really was very handsome. His eyes wandered, admiring him for a moment before looking at Sherlock's face again to make sure he understood. 

"All right," Sherlock said. He knew he trusted John. He hadn't thought they'd ever be in this position, but the trust was still there.

John nodded. "Now. Take my clothes off -- everything except my pants. And remember, you're not allowed to touch anything else but the clothes you're taking off." 

Sherlock stepped forward and pulled John's jumper over his head and dropped it onto the floor. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled that off as well. He looked at John's face and paused for a moment. Holding his gaze, he moved his hands down to John's waistband and undid the button on his trousers. His fingers touched John's skin as he did and there was an electricity. He pushed John's trousers down and waited for John to lift his feet to step out of them. Then he dropped his hands and stepped back.

"You touched me," John said. It was harder to keep his voice steady and he wished Sherlock had done something else because this no touching was going to drive him insane. "Am I going to have to tie you up, Sherlock?"

"It was an accident," Sherlock said. He didn't say anything about the question.

"I told you not to. Either you're not careful, or you don't know how to listen. Which one?"

"I know how to listen," Sherlock said. "Sorry." He had an urge to touch John now. But he didn't.

"So you're just not very careful," John said. "That won't do, Sherlock. That won't do because I want to touch you. And I want to touch myself and I can't have you getting careless. Lay down."

Sherlock lay down on the bed. "I'll be careful," he said quietly, watching John. He really didn't know what John was going to do, but John seemed to know and Sherlock found that quite thrilling.

John went to his closet and pulled out a soft, silk tie. "Arms up." When Sherlock did that John tied his wrists together and then to the headboard. John smiled and put his fingertips lightly on Sherlock's chest, slowly dragging them downwards. 

After John tied his wrists, Sherlock shifted slightly. He was pretty sure he could get out if he absolutely wanted to. But he didn't want to. At least not yet. He was too distracted by John's fingers down his front. "John," he exhaled softly.

"Shh," John murmured, dragging his fingers so slowly that he was only just getting to Sherlock's belly now. 

Sherlock shifted a little in response to John's touch. He didn't want to be quiet. He wanted to make noises. He wanted John to give him a command and he wanted to follow that command. He wanted, wanted, wanted. But he stayed quiet. Because that's what John had said to do.

"How much can you move your head tied up like that?" he asked, his fingers playing with the elastic of Sherlock's pants. 

Sherlock didn't say anything but lifted his head from the pillow and turned it side to side. He tried not to think of John's fingers.

John considered the movement. John pulled his fingers away from Sherlock and carefully climbed over him, straddling his chest. "I want you to get me out of my pants," he said. 

Sherlock looked up at John and then considered his options. He lifted his head and pressed his mouth against the waistband of John's pants. Then he twisted his tongue to get the material between his teeth. He lowered his head as John raised his body a little and Sherlock pulled back. One side of his pants were now resting on John's hip. He did the same to the other side. He wasn't sure he could get them down any further, but he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against the material that John's cock rested behind. He parted his lips a little and exhaled a warm breath and then closed so that material went into his mouth. John lifted again and Sherlock pulled on the material, exposing John's cock. He had never really seen it -- he'd walked in on John in the shower or changing his clothes, but he'd never really see his cock and certainly not so closely and not as it was getting hard. He didn't think he could do much more with John's pants, but he didn't say anything. He dropped his head back on the pillow.

"Such a good boy," John murmured. He shifted and took them off the rest of the way, settling back on his chest. He wrapped his fingers around his cock and stroked slowly. "I want you to keep your mouth closed." He put the tip against Sherlock's closed lips and stroked himself again. 

It was ridiculous but Sherlock felt strangely pleased when John called him a good boy. He watched John touching himself and could feel his own cock aching to be touched. He kept his mouth closed, as John said, but it was becoming harder to do as John pressed against him. He wanted to open it, take John inside, but he did his best not to.

"It's nice when you're allowed to touch," he murmured. "If you can keep your mouth closed for three minutes, I will reward you." As he stroked himself, his tip pressed to Sherlock's mouth, he reached back and palmed at Sherlock's cock through his pants. 

Sherlock wanted to let out a moan at John's touch, but he was afraid to open his mouth. He wasn't sure what the reward would be, but god, he wanted it. He closed his eyes for a minute and inhaled through his nose and then opened his eyes and watched John's hand on his cock so close to his face.

John palmed harder, his own cock pressing harder against Sherlock's lips.

Surely, the three minutes were up now -- it felt like it had to have been much longer. Sherlock waited as long as he could and then slipped the tip of his tongue between his lips, just to touch John, to just taste him.

John stopped everything very suddenly. His hand came off of Sherlock's cock, he stopped stroking himself and pulled from his mouth, and he even swung his leg up and got off of him. "You know you still had a whole minute left, yeah?" John said, sounding a bit disappointed. "Turn onto your stomach and get your arse up a bit for me." He made sure Sherlock twisted the tie instead of his wrists. He rubbed his arse lightly. "I'm afraid you have to be punished, Sherlock."

Sherlock pulled his head back as John moved. He watched him and wondered, and then followed John's orders. He turned himself over, feeling a bit awkward and exposed. Was John going to hit him? He was sure that whatever he was going to do, it would be okay. He didn't know why he knew this, but he did. He waited, listening for John's next move.

"I want you to count, Sherlock. If you forget a number or lose your place we'll have to start over, understand?" John lifted his hand and brought it down hard on Sherlock's arse. 

Sherlock was surprised at John's slap, but he tried to remember what was happening. That he had started it. Kind of. "One," he said as clearly as he could. He turned his head a bit on the pillow, so it was easier to breathe.

John watched him closely for any signs of distress. He rubbed the spot before bringing his hand down on him again. 

"Two," Sherlock said clearly. It did hurt, but there was something else there as well -- a kind of curiosity. Sherlock wanted to know what John would do; but more than that, Sherlock just _wanted,_ even if he wasn't sure what any of this meant.

John did this three more times. He brought his hand down the fifth time, waiting until Sherlock counted it before rubbing the spot. "Turn around again. Carefully," he added, knowing he would be a bit sore. 

Sherlock shifted, trying to be as careful as he could. He was thinking of every detail now, trying to do precisely what John said. He settled back against the bed, the material rubbing his sore skin. He tried not to make a sound as he winced just a little. He looked up at John.

John leaned over him and kissed his lips softly. "You did very well," he praised. "I'm going to reward you now, okay?" He moved down and pulled Sherlock's pants off, wrapping his fingers around his cock and stroking softly.

Sherlock lifted into John's kiss and was disappointed when it ended. But then John was touching him, stroking his hard cock, and it felt so good. He tried to reach to touch John, but he remembered his wrists were tied. He squirmed just a bit at John's touch. "John," he said softly, "please . . ."

"No, love, you don't get to touch this time. You have to learn your lesson, don't you?" he asked, stroking Sherlock a bit faster. 

Sherlock's breath was changing. It'd been a long time since anyone had touched him, and he worried he was going to come too soon and all of this would be over. He closed his eyes for a moment and a small moan escaped his lips. He opened his eyes a little to see if that was okay.

"You can make noise," John said. "But you cannot come, understand? Not until I tell you to." He climbed onto the bed again, still stroking Sherlock. He leaned down and started to suck his cock, bobbing up and down as he stroked the base. 

"God, John," Sherlock said. He closed his eyes again and focused on the feeling of John's mouth -- warm and wet. His hands moved again, pulling a little. He lifted his hips, groaning.

John moved a bit faster, moving his hand so he could bob down lower and take Sherlock deeper into his mouth. 

Sherlock pulled on his hands again. "John, I can't . . . I'm trying to be careful," he said the word slowly so John would know that he was close to coming, that if he did, it wouldn't be his fault. "Please . . . let me."

John pulled off slowly and shook his head. "Not yet, Sherlock. We have more games to play." He crawled up Sherlock's body, straddling him again. "Take some deep breaths, because I'm going to ride you and you cannot come inside me," he said. He fished out some lube from his drawer and spread it on his fingers. He reached back and started to open himself up. 

Sherlock couldn't say any words -- it was like everything John had said was all garbled and only a few words were clear. He watched John and thought he might come just from the sight. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply. He could feel his cock leaking already as John's hand brushed against it. He kept his eyes closed.

John pushed his fingers into his body, opening himself up. He was panting softly, admiring Sherlock's face, then turned and rolled a condom onto Sherlock. John gripped him, lined him up, and sank down with a groan. 

Sherlock's upper body lifted off the bed, pulling on his arms. "John, fuck, John," he moaned. John was so tight around him, it felt incredible. "Let me touch you, I want . . ." he said, wriggling his wrists. He watched John moving, watched the pleasure on John's face. "Let me touch you," he begged softly.

John shook his head. "You have to learn," he murmured, moving up and down. "You feel so good, Sherlock. So good inside," he moaned. 

"I'm . . .," Sherlock moaned, closing his eyes again. The feeling of John's movements, of himself sliding into John, god, it was almost too much. In fact, for a moment, he thought about twisting himself, telling John to stop -- it was all filling Sherlock's head and overloading it. He took a few breaths, inhaling sharply each time John moved down against him. He tried to clear his head. He opened his eyes, watching John . . . watching John use Sherlock to fuck himself. He had to close his eyes again. "Why . . . why are you doing this to me?" he moaned, turning his head to the side as he pulled on his hands again.

"Because you're a bad boy, Sherlock, and you touch things you're not supposed to," John said. He moved faster over him, stroking his own cock lightly. But he was close and he knew Sherlock must be even more so. He slowly pulled off, moving to get a box out from under his bed. Making sure that Sherlock could see him, he pulled out a vibrator, poured some lube on it and carefully pushed it into himself. "Now it's your turn," he smiled, crawling up on the bed between Sherlock's legs. He lubed his hand and rubbed between his legs. "Legs up and open, Sherlock." 

Sherlock felt . . . not afraid really but just so unsure, so out of control. He watched every one of John's moves -- he watched as he pulled out a toy and used it on himself. And then he was moving towards Sherlock and Sherlock pulled up his legs as John had commanded. He wasn't sure what John was going to do. His cock ached, he just wanted to come -- his body as confused as his head. He watched John's face and asked softly, "What are you going to do to me?"

"I'm going to fuck you, Sherlock," he murmured. "And when I come, you can come. Do you understand?" John massaged his entrance, pressing the muscle lightly. 

Sherlock squirmed a bit from John's touch. "Are you going to hurt me?" he said softly, closing his eyes again.

"No," John said, stopping and crawling up his body. "Hey," he murmured softly. "I'm going to take care of you, love. I promise I won't hurt you and you can stop me at any time -- any time."

"I don't want you to stop," Sherlock said softly, still keeping his eyes shut. "Just tell me what to do."

 John kissed his mouth softly and stroked his hair. "Hey, look at me," John said. When Sherlock opened his eyes he smiled softly, holding his gaze. "I am going to take care of you. You just have to wait a little bit longer," he said. He pecked his lips again before sitting up again. He added a bit more lube before pushing his finger slowly into Sherlock. 

"God," Sherlock called out. "God, John," he moaned. He pulled on his wrists as he twisted his whole body in response to John's finger. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to be still. Can you lay still for me so I can open you up?" John asked, slowly pumping his finger.

"I don't know, I'll try," Sherlock said, doing his best to keep still. But he couldn't. He flinched a bit at John's movement before realising it felt so good and he wanted more. He pressed down against his fingers. "Sorry," he said, but he wasn't -- it felt too good.

"You like it, don't you?" John smiled. "You used my computer on purpose, didn't you?" John poured a bit more lube and gently added a second finger. 

"I like it, John," Sherlock moaned, bearing down against John's invasion. He pulled on his wrists. "Please," he begged even though we wasn't even sure what he was begging for.

John spread his fingers and opened him up, scooting closer and putting a condom and more lube on his cock. He pulled his fingers out and lined up, slowly pushing into Sherlock. He was so hot and tight, John swore as he pushed in slowly. He rubbed Sherlock's hip and lower stomach until he was fully seated.

"John," Sherlock called out, his breath almost taken away. "Please," he said again, rocking his hips a little. He opened his eyes to look at John. "Please," he said again.

"Such a good boy," John moaned softly. He reached back and turned the vibrator on, groaning as he started moving slowly into Sherlock. He was so close now that he knew he wasn't going to last very long. He went slowly for a bit, making sure Sherlock was okay. Slowly he started to speed up, pumping into Sherlock. "M'close . . .oh God, Sherlock . . . " he moaned, pushing hard into Sherlock and coming. He threw his head back, calling out for Sherlock as he shuddered and arched. When it was finally over he pulled out slowly, pulled the vibrator out, and started to stroke Sherlock quickly. He put his fingers back into Sherlock and stroked his prostate. "Now you can come, Sherlock. Come for me." 

Sherlock let his body take each of John's thrusts and felt him deep inside when John came. Sherlock's own head went back, and he opened his mouth to let out a low groan. And then John's hand was on him and then in him, and Sherlock's head went dizzy. And John was telling him to come and he let go of everything and came, his body jerking up off the bed against John's movement. "Fuck, John," he called out, every muscle in his body tightening before releasing and he dropped back against the mattress.

John slowed down and pulled away from Sherlock. He moved the things off of the bed and came up to Sherlock's hands. He untied them and brought them down slowly, gently rubbing his wrists and murmuring praises as he watched Sherlock catching his breath. 


	3. Dominant

Sherlock pressed his head into the pillow. "Is that what you like, John?" he asked softly.

John continued rubbing his wrists lightly. "I usually imagine myself in your place," he said quietly. "You seemed to want it this way, and it turns out I'm flexible. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," Sherlock said. "I didn't think that was going to happen and then I didn't want it to stop."

John slouched down and lay down beside him, touching his cheek softly. "I didn't think it was going to happen either . . . I got a bit carried away. Did you like it? Was there anything you didn't?"

"I wanted to touch you," Sherlock said, "I wanted you to show me how you like to be touched. But everything else . . . was good. Did you like it?"

John nodded. "I liked being with you," he said. He leaned in and kissed his mouth again, petting his hair lightly. 

"Have you thought about doing this with me?" Sherlock said. He wasn't sure what the answer would be.

John licked his lips lightly. "Sometimes, when I watched two men I imagined it. I never thought we would. This morning when you started dropping hints, I didn't know what to think."

"Do you think we'll do it again?" Sherlock asked.

"I would like to," he said.

"Do you think it's because I usually boss you? Is that why you like this, telling me what I can and cannot do?"

John smiled softly. "Maybe. I like all of it -- the idea that you trust someone so much to let them restrain you is sexy."

"And you? Do you want to be restrained?" Sherlock asked, thinking of the videos. "Or just me?"

"I would like being restrained as well. I trust you," he smiled. "Do you think you would like the other side of it?"

"Perhaps too much," Sherlock said, "I'm bossy by nature as you know." He stroked John's arm softly as he thought about the things they could do. He hadn't really watched the videos, but somehow he already had some ideas. "Are there certain things you'd want me to do?"

John shrugged. "I don't know -- a lot of the things I see look sexy. We could experiment," he smiled. 

Sherlock moved his hands to John's chest and pinched one of his nipples. He moved himself a little and sucked on it. "Is this one of the things you like?"

John closed his eyes with a small moan. "That's nice, yes," he murmured. 

"I could try other things," Sherlock said, shifting his weight a little. "I could try and you could tell me if it's something you like." He moved over and sucked on John's other nipple as he dropped his hand just to hold John's cock. 

"I'm sure if . . . if you're touching me I'll like it," John murmured, moving his hips against Sherlock's hand. Slowly he was getting hard again. 

"And what about your box of surprises under the bed? Should I consider including those?" Sherlock said, moving so he was lying more on top of John.

"If you want to," John said, flushing lightly. "That was a secret before now," he smiled. 

"And spanking?" Sherlock said, lifting John's arms above his head and he continued to kiss and suck across his chest.

John nodded. "Yes. But I'll be a good boy, unlike some people," he teased. 

Sherlock reached over for the tie and tied one of John's wrists to the headboard. "Just keep the other one of there for now," he said. "I'll trust you." He moved down John's body and went back to kissing and sucking his nipples.

John brought his other hand up as well so he wouldn't be tempted. "Sherlock, that feels really good," he sighed. 

Sherlock slid down John's body and stepped off the bed to look at the box. "John Watson," he said, looking at the different toys. "Hmmm . . ." he said as he moved the box up onto the bed and then crawled over John again. He started to stroke John's cock slowly. "Do you want something inside of you?" he asked.

"You," John grinned, pushing up into his hand. 

"Now you seem impatient," Sherlock said. "You've given up your control now. Remember?" Sherlock straddled him as he ran his hands up and down John's body. 

"Oh. I thought we were just playing," he murmured, arching up into Sherlock's hands. 

"Do you want me to stop and untie you?" Sherlock said, slowing his hand a bit. "Tell me and I will."

"No," he shook his head. "I like playing," he smiled. 

"Good," Sherlock said. "Tell me if you change your mind, but otherwise, I think it's probably wisest if you just do as I say." He stood up and got another tie out of the wardrobe. This one he wrapped around John's head to cover his eyes. "This okay?"

"I suppose so," he said. "But how will I see you being sexy?" he smiled. The blindfold added an extra thrill he hadn't thought much about before.

"I don't need you to see me," Sherlock said. "That's not part of this game. In this game, I'm going to do something and you tell me if you like it. But part of the game is not knowing." He shifted down towards the bottom of the bed. He picked up the lube and poured some into his hands. He started to stroke John slowly, all the way up and down, occasionally moving his thumb over the tip. "Do you like this?" he asked.

"Yes," John nodded, rolling his hips into Sherlock's hand as he stroked. 

Sherlock sped up his hand, concentrating more on the end of John's cock. He gripped a little tighter. "And how about this? Do you like this better?"

John nodded and arched up higher. "That's better . . . more friction," he murmured. 

"That information is quite useful," Sherlock said. He stopped moving his hand and leaned over John. He went to work on his ear, using his tongue to lick around it and then sucking in the lobe before putting it between his teeth and biting a little as he pulled his head back. He sat up again. "And that?"

John gasped softly and shivered at the contact. "Yes . . . that felt good," he murmured. He shifted, trying to find Sherlock again. 

Sherlock moved back a bit. "Pull your legs up," he said, bending John's legs so his feet were flat on the bed. Sherlock nestled in between them, lying down on John, sneaking a hand between their bodies to hold both their cocks. He started rocking his body. It felt good, and he leaned down and kissed John's mouth. Sherlock thought how easily he could get lost in this, so he pushed himself back up and sat back on the bed again. "Did that feel good?" he said, quietly pouring more lube into his hand.

John whined when Sherlock stopped that as well, bucking his hips for more. "Yes . . . Sherlock, please," he sighed. 

"That's not really a proper sentence, John," Sherlock said, as he picked a new toy from the box, slicked it and pressed the tip into John. The toy was thin and curved just a little. "This is the blue one," Sherlock said, pressing it further in. He turned it so the curve would hit John's prostate as he started to slowly pump it. "Do you like the blue one?"

"Ah . . .yes," John nodded, rolling his hips against the toy. "Yes." His free hand came down and gripped the bedsheet. 

"Put your hand back up, John," Sherlock said, "follow the rules." He kept pumping the toy, but he slid his other hand to his own cock and stroked it. "Would you like it if I just continued to fuck with you with this? Maybe even a little harder, would you like that?" he asked. "Answer with a proper sentence, please."

John brought his hand up and gripped the headboard. He took a deep breath and nodded. "I would like you t-to fuck me," he answered slowly. 

"I'm thinking about it, but I'm looking into the box again, John, and I'm wondering something," Sherlock said, still moving the toy in and out of John. "I'm looking at the black one. I'm thinking that one serves a purpose, doesn't it, John? Tell me what its purpose is."

"It's a plug -- just keeps you open for whenever you're ready," he murmured. The sentence was choppy again as he was trying to speak through the constant moving of the toy. 

"I wonder what it feels like," Sherlock said, turning himself around on John so he was straddling him but facing his cock. "Give me your hand, John," he said. He slicked the plug and then put it in John's hand. He reached back for John's hand, lining it up to himself. He bent over and went back to work on John with the blue one. "Push it in, John," he said, "show me what it feels like."

"I need to see," he said, pushing it forward. He did it slowly so that the rounded end would open Sherlock up slowly instead of just pushing through. He was still relaxed from before so it wasn't too difficult. "Sherlock please . . . please let me see . . ."

"Shh, John," Sherlock said. "You didn't let me touch -- I don't let you see." He felt him stretching around the plug. When it was is in, he said, "Thank you for your help, John," and turned himself back around. Fuck, it felt good, so full. He pushed the blue one into John, letting the curve press against his sweet spot, as he started to stroke him again, fast like before. He shifted his hips a little with the movement, keeping his focus on the pressure inside him.

John whined softly again. "Next time you're tied up I'm going to try every single one on you," he moaned, heat flooding through him just thinking about it. "I'm-I'm close . . ." 

Sherlock slid the toy quickly from John. "No," he said, "don't. I'll be very disappointed, John. We've got a ways to go this time, so relax yourself." He rubbed his hand slowly up across John's belly. He waited for a few minutes as John calmed.

"Turn on your left side now, John," he said softly, "both hands stay up." Sherlock stood up -- the plug shifted a little and the pressure intensified -- and pulled John by the legs around so John was facing the headboard. He rolled on a condom, lifted one of John's legs and leaned over. He pressed his cock into John and then pulled his legs open even further and pulled John towards him. The pressure inside him made it all feel more urgent -- he started fucking John hard and fast.

"Ah . . . fucking hell," John called out, his whole body rocking with the movement. "Not helping to calm me," he tried to warn him. He rutted his hips forward but on his side he couldn't get any friction. "Fuck . . . Sherlock please . . . " 

"Just a minute, John, hold on, I just need this for another minute, please," Sherlock said, letting his hips go hard, slamming into John. "Hold on."  
  
Sherlock squeezed shut his eyes. The pressure of John around his cock, the pressure of the plug inside him -- he opened his eyes and looked at John, his arm restrained, his eyes blindfolded, and the sight pushed Sherlock right to the edge and then . . . he froze, took a deep breath and pulled out. He reached over and untied the knot and freed John's hand, pulling the blindfold from his face. He leaned down and kissed his hard. "I'm ready for you. You're going to fuck me now, John, hard. Harder than you think you should, that's what you're going to do," he said as he rolled onto his belly and lifted his arse in the air. "Hurry, John," he said.

John squeezed his eyes shut and let the sounds fall from his mouth with every hard thrust into his body. He felt Sherlock's hands gripping him harder, heard his breathing quicken and he prepared for his climax, but just as suddenly Sherlock was stopping and untying him. For a wild moment he thought that was going to be the end, but Sherlock was full of surprises. He was so desperate for friction that Sherlock didn't have to tell him twice. He slid on another condom, pulled the plug from Sherlock, marveling at the sight of it, and then replaced it with his cock, slamming into Sherlock and gripping his hips hard. 

"Fuck, John, yes, that's it," Sherlock said. "Do you like this? Tell me . . . " Sherlock's voice was a mix of pants and grunts.

"Yes . . . fuck Sherlock . . .it-it's so good," John moaned, panting heavily as he pulled Sherlock's hips for more. "God I'm going to come. . ."

Sherlock lifted his hand to his cock and started stroking as fast as he could. "Say my name, say my name when you come," he panted.

"Fuck, Sherlock," he shouted, thrusting into Sherlock and coming into him. He called Sherlock's name over and over, even when he slumped onto Sherlock's back and simply murmured it against his shoulder.

Sherlock felt John's final thrust and it pushed him over the edge. He came over his hand onto the bed, calling John's name. "Fuck," he said as dropped onto the mattress. "John," he reached back for him. 

John squirmed and managed to get himself beside Sherlock, breathing heavily and swallowing and licking his lips. "Sherlock that . . . that was fantastic."

"Put your arms around me," Sherlock said, still trying to catch his breath.

John shifted closer and pulled Sherlock to him, wrapping his arms around him. They were sticky with sweat and he felt the soiled sheet under his hip. They were definitely going to need a shower.

"I have to close my eyes now, John," Sherlock said. "My body and my brain are tired, I'm sorry." He held onto John's arms, pulling them tighter.

John nodded. "I could sleep," he murmured. "I feel drained."

"Don't squeeze my wrists," Sherlock said drowsily. "They're sore. Don't leave." His words were coming out slowly.

"I'm not leaving," he murmured. He had closed his eyes and was already half asleep.

Everything in Sherlock's head was a blur of images and sounds and sensations, but he was too sleepy to make sense of any of it. He listened to John breath until they both fell asleep.

And that's what happened the day Sherlock made breakfast.


End file.
